


Oh, Mickey, you're so fine (Hey Mickey)

by coldflashwavebaby



Category: Arrow (TV 2012), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Barry's Parents, Chronos - Freeform, Drabbles, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Love Bites, Mick has PTSD, Multi, Nightmares, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Invasion, Time Travel, necking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-06-06
Packaged: 2018-09-21 07:57:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 5,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9538745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldflashwavebaby/pseuds/coldflashwavebaby
Summary: Just some Mick Rory themed drabbles and ficlets. I take requests on tumblr (coldflashwave-baby).





	1. Love Bites (Flashwave)

**Author's Note:**

> This one was requested by anonymous on tumblr: 
> 
> "I just saw your answer about Mick+hickeys. If it's not a problem, could you write something with Flashwave+ hickeys? You totally ruined me with Wasted Wishes Flaswave and there aren't too many quality Flashwave stories. Pretty please? :) ♥♥"
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

           

* * *

            Mick hated speedster healing.

            He hated it when he was the Flash’s enemy, trying to burn him to a crisp, and he hated it now as the hero’s boyfriend.

            It’s a little-known fact that Mick Rory, as a partner, was a possessive shit. That’s not saying he was a jealous partner—no, if he was with you, he trusted you wholly. But, he did like to show to the world what he had, and his favorite way was decorating his partner with red love bites and large hickeys.

            But DAMN. No matter how hard or how long he nipped and sucked on Barry’s skin, an hour later, his masterpiece would disappear like it never happened. And he was getting damn sick of it.

            Like now, when he had the speedster pinned to the wall of the Waverider mess hall, reveling in the moans and gasps Barry was fighting to bite back, but failing as Mick sucked on his neck.

            He pulled back with a grin. They were beautiful—works of art littering the pale, blank canvas. Mick never understood art when Snart used to ramble on about it during thefts, but _damn_. Now, he understood.

            Barry clawed at Mick’s shirt in an attempt to pull him back in. “Mick…” He groaned. “Mick, come on.”

            He smiled at the wantonness of the speedster. “Slow down there, Doll.” He wanted to take his time. After discussing his _problem_ with Gideon, he finally found a solution to his little problem.

            He unzipped the Flash’s red leather costume and dragged his hands down his overheated torso. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

0000000

            “Why is it so cold in here?” Sara rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “Gideon, what is the temperature at right now?”

            _“Current ships temperature at 42 degrees Fahrenheit.”_

Across the bridge, Ray shivered. “Why is it so cold?”

            They got their answer when Mick walked in, his face full of smug pride, followed by a clearly debauched Barry, his neck and jaw (and probably more if they opened his suit) covered in purple and red marks.

            Martin sputtered at the sight, Jax chuckled knowingly, and Ray blushed red.

            Sara just rolled her eyes. “Next time you want to see your handiwork on your boyfriend, try not to freeze the ship, okay?”


	2. Sweet Dreams (Flashwave)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Requested on tumblr by anonymous: 
> 
> "Can I request another Flashwave drabble? Since I'm a sucker for hurt/comfort stories, how about hurt Barry+comforting Mick OR Mick has nightmares and Barr comforting him OR why not just combine the mentioned ones? :D That'd be awesome, no matter wich one of the three you choose. :)"

* * *

 

            _Tell me…what is your name?_

_You were the greatest of all the Hunters, Chronos…_

_WHAT IS YOUR NAME?_

_I was strangling rats to survive…_

_Your orders are to find the Waverider and kill everyone onboard…_

_WHAT IS YOUR NAM—?_

Chronos.

_My old friend…forgive me…_

 

A loud scream had Mick shooting up in bed. It took him a minute to realize it came from him. The sheets and pillows were wet, his body covered in a cold sweat. His hands were trembling. He couldn’t breathe…he couldn’t…

“Mick?”

He nearly jumped off the mattress, before he realized he hadn’t fallen asleep alone. Barry groggily raised his head, frowning concernedly at his boyfriend. Mick’s breathing calmed. He was safe. He wasn’t in the Vanishing Point, at the Oculus, or even on the Waverider. He was in his apartment with his boyfriend, back home in Central, in 2017. He let out a shuddered breath.

“I’m fine, doll.” He grinned in what he hoped was a reassuring way. “It was just a dream. You can go back to sleep.”

He expected Barry to shrug it off, roll over, and slip back to sleep. After all, it’s what anyone else would’ve done. But, as he was often pleasantly surprised by, Barry Allen was not anyone else. Instead, he sat up and draped himself comfortingly over his back, hooking his chin over his scarred shoulder.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Mick sighed contently. As always, Barry knew exactly what to do. He took one of the speedster’s hands and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. “Not tonight.”

Barry nodded slightly. “Do you need me to do anything?”

What a loaded question. It was really the question that started their whole relationship, after the Waverider came back without Leonard Snart. Mick always suspected there was something between them, which was enforced when Barry nearly broke down at the news. But, the kid soon put on a strong face and walked over to Mick, asking with complete sincerity, “Do you need me to do anything?”

His answer was bring him a six-pack, which Barry had done. He thought that would be that, but Barry continued to return to Mick, hanging around him and checking on him, but not in a pitying way. He soon found out that he’d recently lost his father, and suddenly, Mick understood why the kid was so understanding. Like his grandmother used to say, “There’s no better relief in this world than someone who understands your sorrows and loves you for them, instead of pitying and judging you for them”.

Mick swallowed hard. “Just…can you…?” He pulled the speedster’s arm around his waist.

Barry breathed out a laugh. “Of course. Whatever you need.”

No pity or judgement.

Mick laid down with a small smile on his lips, and Barry wrapped himself around his back, using his fingers to gently stroke down his bare arms and chest while he hummed a tune. Mick knew it was the lullaby Nora Allen used to sing when he was afraid of the dark as a child, but neither of them actually knew what the song was. It was calming, though, and soon, Mick felt like the darkness of his life was miles behind him.

He let his eyes slip closed, and there, in Barry Allen’s arms, he didn’t dream once.


	3. Stranger (Flashwave)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jinxous-all requested: "I'm not sure if this is the kind of Flashwave Drabble you were looking for, but it's different. Waverider stops on the night Nora Allen is murdered and Mick finds nine year old Barry walking the streets, confused." 
> 
> I did Chronos instead, and I might turn this into a full blown story later. I really like this idea.

“Mom!”

            Barry cried as the red lighting whipped around his living room, his mother trapped in the center. She shouted for him to run, but his eyes caught a form in the lightning—a man in a yellow suit. Suddenly, his dad was grabbing him by the shoulders and telling him to go.

            Then, somehow, he was miles from his house. He spun in a circle, confused. How did he get this far away? What happened to his mom and dad? A whooshing sound behind him drew his attention, followed by the sound of heavy bootsteps. He turned in time to see an armored man stepping out of…something? It reminded him of when people stepped out of cloaked spaceships in movies—he could see inside wherever the man had been, but there was no ship around him. The door shut behind him, and whatever it was completely invisible again.

            Barry frowned. He couldn’t see the man’s face through the black helmet on his head. He was like Darth Vader or Boba Fett. The man raised his arm.

            “Ginny.” An almost robotic voice said. “There’s no sign of the Waverider. Whatever anomaly at this point in the timeline isn’t them.”

            _“Apologies, Chronos.”_ Another voice replied. Barry realized that the man’s armor was _talking back to him_. Cool. _“Rescanning the timeline. This should take twenty minutes.”_

Barry chose this moment to make himself known. After all, he wasn’t sure where his house was, or what was happening. Maybe this man—Chronos—could help him?

            Chronos startled, like he hadn’t realized Barry was there. He raised a large, futuristic rifle at him. Barry jumped back a little. “State your business.”

Barry fidgeted. The man was terrifying, but at this point, he didn’t have many options. “Um...I don’t know where I am.” He explained. “My mom…she was attacked in my house and suddenly I was here and I don’t know where ‘here’ is…can you help me?”

The man just stared at him, silently. Maybe this was a bad idea. He didn’t know this man, and he wasn’t supposed to talk to strangers. He could be working with the yellow man, for all Barry knew. After a few minutes though, Chronos lowered his weapon.

He raised his arm again. “Ginny, scan the kid and see who he is and where he lives.”

_“Scan complete. Name: Bartholomew Henry Allen. Address: 5262 Blossom Road.”_

Chronos tensed a little. “You’re shitting me.” He shook his head. “Ginny, can you tell me how to get there?”

_“Certainly, Chronos.”_

The man sighed. “Come on, kid. Let’s get this over with.”

Barry held out a hand to the man, which he took with a groan. They walked down the streets together, Barry blabbering about this and that to calm his nerves. He didn’t want to think about what was waiting for him when he got home. What did the man in yellow want? What if he was still there?

Chronos remained silently the whole way, only grunting or humming in reply every now and then. Eventually, they reached the end of Blossom Road and stopped.

“Can you find your way from here?”

Barry nodded, and, before he could think better of it, threw his arms around the metal man’s waist.  “Thank you.”

            Chronos seemed tenser than ever. Barry pulled away and ran back towards his house, desperate to see what happened to his parents and to tell them about Chronos. But all thoughts of the man blew away when he saw the police cars parked outside his house.


	4. Not a Hero (Newswave)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fortheglare asked: something about how he's changed as a person after his experiences as chronos. is he more observant now? does he take orders better, or worse? etc. maybe one of the characters who knew him before noticing little things.

* * *

Sara passed Mick the flask, and he downed almost the entire thing in one gulp. Sure, they’d just saved the world. Sure, it was a time for celebration. Red and Skirt were in the corner talking excitedly while Robin Hood watched amusedly. Ponytail was laughing at something Ramon was telling her. Stein was discussing something quietly with Flash’s doctor friend.

            Heroes. All of them.

            He didn’t belong here.

            Without a word, he walked away from his team. Most didn’t even notice—too busy talking about the mysterious speedster. Amaya caught his eye, giving an “Are you okay?” eyebrow raise. He sent a tight-lipped smile back. No reason to worry her.

            He stepped outside of the ‘Hall of Justice’, as Ramon called it. If Lenny could see him now, what would he think? Two years ago, he’d say his partner would laugh and ask if he inhaled too much kerosene. Now, though, after the Flash and the Legends, it was like he never knew Leonard Snart at all.

            He leaned his head back against the cold stone wall. His life was so much simpler before superheroes and time travel. Back before the Time Masters played Operation with his brain and made him Chronos, all that mattered was fire. Today, he appreciated fire, by the need was gone; that burning ache that gave him a sense of belonging. What was a pyro without his obsession for fire?

            “Hey.”

            He nearly jumped out of his skin. He turned to see the Flash’s girlfriend—Irene or something—standing just outside the door, watching him.

            He grunted in reply. Maybe if he didn’t say anything, she’d go away and leave him alone.

            Instead, she stepped closer, leaning against the wall beside him. “Needed a break?”

            Mick scoffed. “The heroes were getting chummy in there. I know when I’m not wanted.”

            The girl—Iris! That’s what it was—frowned. “I could be wrong, but you helped out just as much as any of them.”

            He snorted. “I ain’t no hero.”

            She reached into the large tote bag on her shoulder and pulled out two bottles of beer. She held one out to him, which he took suspiciously. Then, she popped open the other and took a drink. “You’re different than I remember.” She continued. “You know, my dad and fiancé…well, my fiancé at the time…were the ones to arrest you last time. I remember seeing them drag you into the precinct. Team Flash told me about all the things you did to them. You’re not that guy anymore.”

            She tilted her head. “You’re different. You’re right; you aren’t a hero. But maybe we have enough heroes out there. Sometimes, they need a criminal. Besides, it’s okay to be an outsider. I’m an outsider with Team Flash—I’m not a genius or a meta. But that doesn’t mean that they don’t need me.”

She reached over to clink the neck of her beer bottle against his. “You’re going to be fine.” She pushed off the wall and headed back towards the party.

When he was sure that she was gone, he smiled to himself and popped open his beer. Len would definitely approve of someone like her.

           


	5. Love's Bitch (Coldwave)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "Coldwave + vampire AU? If you aren't too swamed anyway. c: I have two other ideas I love but I'll save those for another time. ^^"
> 
> This takes place in the same universe as "Is Today the Day I Die?"

**_London, 1705-_ **

Michael grunted as his face collided with the cold, stone floor of the jail cell. The soldiers who brought him in laughed and jeered, calling him pathetic, drunkard criminal. Well, they weren’t wrong.

           Ever since he watched his family get burnt alive, Michael’s life went on a downward slope that, if he were honest with himself, he couldn’t care less about. He set fires, got drunk, robbed people, and passed out in alleyways—not always in that order. Lucky for him, this time, he was only being arrested for drunkenness, and none of the men recognized him from any of his past misconducts.

           The door slammed behind him, and the soldiers went on, leaving Michael to crawl to the back wall of the cell to pull himself to his feet. He settled for an upright sitting position, his back leaned against the wall

           “What did you do?”

           The voice startled him. In his sluggish state, he hadn’t noticed a figure lurking in the shadowed corner of the cell, watching him avidly. He grunted again. “What’s it to ya?”

           The figure shrugged. “I’m a curious man. Besides, what else are we going to talk about, being trapped in here together?”

           Michael would rather the man stay silent. When his inevitable hangover came on, he knew he’d want as little noise as possible. But, for some reason, he answered the man anyway. “Public drunkenness. Though, if they saw the fire I set a few blocks away from where they caught me, I’d be in here for a lot more.”

           “Really?” The man asked, surprised. “Why is that?”

            _None of your damn business,_ he wanted to say, but there was something…whispering to him. Something compelling him… “Locked some creep who tried to scam me out of our last heist payoff inside to burn with it. Good riddance.”

           The man laughed, quiet and breathy, but for some reason, it sent a shiver up Michael’s spine. The man stepped out of the shadows, giving Michael his first real look at him. The man was… _beautiful._ Really, there was no other word for him. If he were a woman, every man in Britain would trip over himself for marriage. Mick, who wasn’t one to give a shit about man or woman, no matter what the Church or anyone had to say about it, stared at him in awe and lust.

The man’s icy, blue eyes froze him in place as he glided across the cell to stand in front of Michael. “What’s your name?” He asked.

Michael’s breath caught in his throat as the man fell to his knees and practically crawled into his lap. “Mi…Michael. Michael Rory.”

He swallowed hard as the man gently grabbed his chin and began stroking his bottom lip with his thumb. “Michael…” He tested the name like it was a wine to taste and frowned. “You don’t look like a Michael. No…” A smirk grew on his face. “You’re a Mick. Mick Rory. _My_ Mick Rory.”

           The man leaned forward so that his lips brushed against the shell of his ear, and Michael— _Mick—_ shuddered. “Would you like that, Mick? Would you like to be all mine?”

           Mick found himself nodding frantically. He couldn’t help it—something about this man was intoxicating and irresistible. He wanted to give him everything.

           The man let out that breathy laugh again. “Good.” Was all he said before the side of his neck started to burn. He couldn’t turn his head, but he knew that the man was biting him. He was one of the cursed children he’d heard about—a _vampire_.

           The man pulled away after about a minute, ripping open the top of his own shirt and using his nail to slice open the skin above his breast. Without even needing prompting, Mick lunged forward to suck the blood from the wound. The man’s hand clutched at the back of his head in encouragement, humming softly while Mick drank.

           When Mick finally pulled back, the man pulled him in again, only this time to bring their lips together. They kissed, bit, sucked, attacked, moaned. It was the most satisfying experience Mick had ever had. They came apart finally, only enough that their foreheads were leaned together, and the man chuckled.

           “My name’s Leonard.” He announced. “And the two of us are going to rule the world.”


	6. His Bodyguard (Atomwave)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: ""..Do you wanna do this again sometime, maybe?" For atomwave?"

 He hadn’t meant to fall into bed with his bodyguard. Really…it’d just _happened._

Ray had been at a gala…

           No, it really started earlier than that. After Leonard Snart, his last bodyguard, quit to elope with his boyfriend, but left a card with a recommendation: Mick Rory. Ray had been expecting someone like Leonard—organized, sharp, cold. Mick Rory, though, was almost the opposite.

           Mick was like a roaring fire—warm and inviting when he was calm, wild and furious when released. He was unpredictable, untamable, and Ray couldn’t get enough of him. Which had been starting to become a problem.

           Then came the _incident._ The one that put him in his situation. Honestly, he should’ve thought twice before going to a Queens Consolidated gala in Starling City, of all places. He wasn’t even surprised when the armed robbers came rushing in, guns raised, demanding everyone’s money and jewelry.

           He _was_ surprised when one of the gunmen shoved the muzzle of the gun in his face, was suddenly knocked to the ground by a solid punch to his face. Before anyone else in the room could react, Mick started disarming the rest of the crew, until they were all unconscious on the ground, and Ray was horribly aroused.

           Now that he was watching Mick walk towards his shower, he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. “Hey, Haircut.” Ray snapped out of his daze to see Mick’s smug grin. “You just gonna keep staring?”

           Ray cleared his throat nervously. “Sorry, didn’t mean to…I, uh…” Great, now he was stuttering like an idiot. “I was…um…I was wondering…”

           “Spit it out, genius.”

           “Do you wanna do this again sometime, maybe?” He managed to say. He squeezed his eyes shut, too humiliated to look at Mick.

           When his bodyguard laughed, he wanted to die.

           “Did you think I intended to take this shower by myself?” Ray’s eyes snapped open to Mick’s smirking face. Oh. _Oh._

           Mick rolled his eyes. “You’ve got five minutes, or I’m starting without ya.” With that, he walked into the bathroom. Ray stayed frozen in place until he heard the shower kick on, practically throwing himself out of the bed to run into the bathroom. He wasn’t missing out on an offer like that.


	7. Mistakes were Made (Atomwave)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> snarkysnartes asked: "Atomwave + "Who Topped" please"

Mick woke up pleasantly warm and fully satisfied, if not slightly hungover. His muscles were sore, like he’d gotten in a hard fight, and he tried to remember what happened the night before. When he moved to sit up, however, something tightened around his waist, and a warm body pressed hard against his back with a content sigh.

            _Right_. He grinned to himself. The Legends had been celebrating restoring the timeline with shots. Lots and lots of shots. He’d found out very quickly just how handsy of a drunk Ray Palmer really was. Smirking, Sara had volunteered Mick to help him back to his room.

           Mick wasn’t quite as drunk as Ray, but he was drunk enough that, once they stepped into his room, the billionaire was able to take him by surprise and pin him to the wall, attacking his lips sloppily.

           There was a kiss at the nape of his neck. “Morning.” Ray greeted, rubbing his fingers over Mick’s scarred torso. Mick groaned and pressed back against his body.

           “And good morning to you both.”

           Mick’s eyes flew open. Sara, Jax, Amaya, and Nate were all standing at the edge of the bed, mixed expressions of amusement and horror on their faces. Probably thanking whoever was listening that Mick had the forethought to cover their modesty before they fell asleep the night before.

           Ray screamed. “What the hell? Why are you all in my room?”

           Sara, Amaya, and Jax all burst into fits of laughter, while Nate stared solemnly. “You mean _my_ room?” he asked. “Yours is the next one down.”

           Wow, they must have been drunker than Mick thought. He chuckled, not feeling bad at all that he and Ray had sex in Pretty’s bed. If anything, he kind of wanted to go again.

           Ray probably wasn’t up for it, though, if the mortification on his face meant anything. “Oh my God.” He looked between his crewmates. “OH MY GOD!” He yanked the blanket over his head, pulling it right off of Mick and exposing him to the entire room.

           Their four observers all quickly averted their eyes as Mick made no attempt to cover up. If they didn’t want a show, they could leave. “We’ll head out after Haircut gets over his embarrassment.”

Jax and Amaya nodded, hurrying out of the room. Nate sucked his teeth as he gave his bed one last mournful look, before following their lead.

Sara, though, made no move to leave. In fact, she grinned gleefully as Mick reached down to grab his pants off the floor. He raised an eyebrow. “Anything else?”

“Yeah,” She tilted her head as she glanced between Mick and the lump in the blanket that was Ray. “Who topped?”

“Get out.” He ordered, yanking his pants on angrily. Sara left with a final laugh, and Mick rolled his eyes. The minute the door slid closed behind her, Ray popped out from under the blanket.

“Are they all gone?”

Mick nodded, settling back on the bed with a flinch. A proud smirk pulled at Ray’s lips. “Sore?”

“Shut up.” He growled, trying to sound intimidating, but obviously failing miserably. Ray kept smiling.

“So…round two in my room?”


	8. Breakfast in Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> peppersandcats asked: ""I'd offer you breakfast, but I think I'm too sore to move." flashwave"

 If there was one thing Barry never got tired of, it was watching his husband sleep. He rested his chin on Mick’s bare chest, his fingers tracing spirals across the warm skin.

“Is this going to be a regular thing?” Mick muttered, opening one eye. “You staring at me while I sleep?”

Barry grinned and pressed a kiss to his chest. “I’d apologize, but it’s your fault. You’re too handsome.”

A small smile tugged on Mick’s lips. His eye drifted closed. “I’d offer to make you breakfast, but I think I’m too sore to move.”

Barry laughed, leaning up to kiss his husband on the lips. “I’ll make you some eggs and bacon.” He moved to stand up, but Mick’s hand shot out to grab his arm. Both of his eyes were open now, and he quickly smacked a wide grin on his face.

“Why don’t we both just stay in bed?” He suggested, pulling Barry back beside him. “Curl up together, maybe sneak in a round two…?”

“Are you trying to keep me from making me breakfast?” Barry frowned, raising his head up to glare at Mick.

Mick shook his head, an innocent expression on his face—like Barry believed he was innocent of anything in his life. Barry raised an eyebrow.

“Are you saying that I’m a bad cook?”

“…no.” Barry almost laughed at the wide-eyed look of terror Mick was giving him. He was probably remembering the time Barry tried to make hot dogs, and almost gave Mick food poisoning. He cringed.

“Alright…maybe just some toast and cereal? Maybe some coffee?” Mick pursed his lips, considering the offer. He released Barry’s arm.

“No cooking.” He warned, narrowing his eyes playfully.

“No cooking.” Barry agreed, kissing his husband again. He moved to get up, but Mick pulled him down for a deeper, filthier kiss that made Barry’s toes curl. He threw a leg over to straddle Mick, getting a better angle.

He’d get to breakfast in a few minutes.


	9. Broken Vows (Flashwave)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: "“Listen… You’re his best friend… and I completely fucked up– it’s over between us, but… please, punch me, or punish me, or do something to me because he just… cried. He wasn’t even angry, they were just so sad– Please, be angry at me, please. Give me what I deserve.” For flashwave?"

Barry could not _believe_ how hungover he was. His head was pounding like a jackhammer, the light peeking through the window was blinding…at least he didn’t feel like he was going to throw up.

            Ugh…he had to talk to Caitlin about the speedster alcohol. Too much. It was _waaay_ too much. Of course, he should’ve known better than to try it out at his bachelor’s party, the night before his wedding. Regardless, he needed to get up. Len was probably already awake and getting ready. He groaned, rolling over to try and get a few more minutes of sleep.

            “Keep it down, will ya?” A muffled voice said beside him. A very familiar muffled voice. One that should not have been on the other side of Barry’s bed. Barry shot up with a shout.

            Mick Rory was in his bed. Mick Rory was _very_ naked and curled up beside him in bed. Len’s _best man_ was curled up beside him, naked, in his bed. No matter how Barry said it in his head, it didn’t sound any better.

            He looked around the room, remembering the night before in vivid detail. After Cisco, Wally, Caitlin, and Iris walked with him back to his floor, they’d all gone back to their respective rooms, all nearly as drunk as he was. That’s when Barry saw Mick standing outside his own room, staring at the door like it’d personally offended him.

            “Heeeeey, Mick.” He called, still drunk off his ass and goofy. “Thought you were with Lenny…”

            “Len’s back in his room, getting some sleep ‘fore tomorrow.” Mick grumbled, eyes not leaving the door in front of him. “I lost my room key.”

As drunk as he was, Barry could tell that Mick was equally so. Otherwise, Mick would’ve popped down to the front desk and asked for a new key. “Wha’ bout Mardon? Isn’t he your roommate?”

“He and Shawna fucked off somewhere. Dunno when they’re coming back.”

Barry nodded, a terrible idea popping in his head. “Why don’t you come sit in my room and wait?”

After that, Barry didn’t remember much between Mick coming in and sitting on the pullout in Barry’s suite and being thrown onto his bed and fucked into the mattress by his soon-to-be husband’s best friend.

The evidence of what they’d done was everywhere—their clothes strewn in various areas of the room, the air reeked of sex, the sheets were stained from their…activities.

Scratch what he thought earlier—Barry was _definitely_ going to throw up.

“Mick.” Barry shook his bedmate’s shoulder. “Mick, wake up, now!”

Mick jerked up, a bleary, tired fog over his eyes. He frowned when he saw Barry, then the bed, then their clothes…

“OH, SHIT.”

Mick threw himself off the side of the bed, stumbling to his feet. His chest was heaving, his eyes were wide with panic, and Barry couldn’t blame him.

“Did we…?”

Barry nodded.

“You and I…?”

He nodded again.

“The two of us…?”

“Yes, Mick!” Barry exclaimed. “We both were drunk off our asses last night, and we had sex, right before I’m supposed to marry your best friend!”

He didn’t mean to yell, but he was feeling frantic and confused and like a piece of shit. God, he was supposed to get married in a few hours, and he was standing naked in his bedroom with another man.

“What the hell?” Mick asked falling back enough so he was leaning against the wall. He ran his hand over his face, clearly in the middle of his own crisis. “What are we gonna tell Len?”

Barry sighed, knowing exactly what he was going to tell Len. Len deserved the truth, and that’s what he was going to get.

 

0000000

 

Mick was woken up three nights later to banging on his apartment door.

After getting dressed, Barry had gone almost immediately to Len’s room and told him everything that’d happened. The wedding was ‘postponed’, but Mick was sure that, even if it didn’t get cancelled, he wouldn’t be asked to be the best man of the next one.

When he opened his apartment door, though, he knew there wouldn’t be another wedding. Barry was standing there, soaked to the bone from the pouring rain outside, eyes wide and shining with tears. He didn’t even ask to come in—he just stepped around Mick and into the living area. Mick caught the scent of liquor on his clothes and knew that he’d been in the speedster alcohol again.

“We broke up.” Barry whispered, staring blankly at his feet. “Len…he was so nice about it. I didn’t expect…he said that he wanted me to be happy, that maybe we needed to take a break, think about what we both really wanted.”

He shook his head. “Captain Cold being reasonable. I couldn’t believe it.”

Mick sighed, slamming the front door closed. He felt guilty enough about what happened without this shit. “What do you want, Red?”

Barry trembled, and something in Mick made him want to take the cold clothes off of him, wrap him up, and comfort him. When had _that_ happened? When had Mick started developing feelings for Barry Allen of all people? When had he gone so soft?

“Listen…” Barry answered quietly, but firmly. “You’re his best friend… and I completely fucked up– it’s over between us, but… please, punch me, or punish me, or do something to me because he just… cried.” He shuddered. “He wasn’t even angry. His eyes…they were just so sad– Please, be angry at me.”

Mick shook his head. “Barry…”

“Please.” Barry begged. “Give me what I deserve.”

Mick stared at Barry, shocked and really confused, even as Barry ran up and pushed him, trying to egg him into a fight. “Come on.” The speedster snarled, pushing him again. “Come on! Hurt me! Fight me! Break me!” He kept pushing and pushing at Mick, tears rolling down his face, until Mick finally grabbed his wrists and turned them so Barry’s back was pinned against the door.

“No, Doll.” He said calmly. It was strange when _he_ was the calm one in an emotional situation, but it’d been a strange few days, anyway. “I’m not going to beat you, or hurt you, or make you bleed. I won’t punish you for something you’re already punishing yourself for. Instead, I’m going to let go. You’re going to take those clothes off, and I’m going to bring you some dry clothes of mine. Then, I’m going to make you some hot coffee to sober you up, and you’re going to sleep on that couch tonight. Nod if you understand.”

Still breathing frantically, eyes still dripping with tears, Barry nodded. Mick slowly released his wrists and stepped back, and Barry did exactly as Mick said.

Later that night, as Barry laid passed out on his couch, Mick considered once again when he started developing feelings for Barry. He decided it didn’t matter. He had them—that was the important thing. And he was going to make sure Barry was okay.


End file.
